Where We Stand
by Dreamwritten
Summary: Almost a year after her brother's death, Conner is still on her own in this post-apocalyptic world. But is she really? M for violence and language.
1. Chapter 1 - teaser

_Blue moon_

The squishing and moans are getting louder.

_You saw me standing alone_

The deadheads are in sight, three of them, crouching over a rabbit carcass that had been left overnight.

_Without a dream in my heart_

One looks up as the singer approaches. A woman, possibly mid thirties. It's hard to tell at this point though, the faces are so decayed.

_Without a love of my own_

The other two continue to scrape their fingers through the remains of the deceased bunny.

_Blue moon_

A dull thump is heard as the singer jumps onto a wood plank that has been fashioned between two sturdy tree limbs.

_You knew just what I was there for_

She holds an 8 oz. cup of gas in one hand and a box of matches in the other.

_You heard me saying a prayer for_

The other two finally lift their heads. The woman claws at the edges of the pit she had earlier stumbled into.

_Someone I really could care for_

The singer crouches in the middle of the plank, directly over the three deadheads that now crowd together in an attempt to climb the steep ledge. She pours the gasoline down over their heads. It's just enough to hit all three.

A match is struck.

The small flame is dropped and quickly ignites the woman. The two men behind her are slower to catch but still flare after a few seconds.

It doesn't take long for the smell of burning rotted flesh to make it's way to the singer's nose. Said nose crinkles. "Never get used to that..." She mumbles to herself as she carefully moves back across the small bridge.

The way home is long, but it's worth keeping the smell further away. As long as the wind stays east it shouldn't touch her. She soon reaches the fork of the boards. Left for home, right to check the other pit. There was no bait left in the other, so it would be a waste of time. But time was something she had plenty of.

She decides to check.

It seems as though recently there have been more activity in this area. Just when she was starting to think maybe she had taken care of most of them.

Maybe one stumbled in in the darkness of the night.

She restarts her song for the long walk.

_Blue moon_

_You saw me standing alone_

_Without a dream in my heart_

_Without a love of my own_

_Blue moon_

_You knew just what I was there for_

_You heard me saying a prayer for_

_Someone I really could care for_

She could swear the woods suddenly seemed quieter.

_And then there suddenly appeared before me_

_The only one my arms will hold_

_I heard somebody whisper please adore me_

_And when I looked to the moon it turned gold_

Getting closer now. She didn't hear the moans and groans that usually echoed from the pits when they were occupied, but something kept her moving forward.

_Blue moon_

_Now I'm no longer alone_

_Without a dream in my heart_

_Without a love of my own_

"Hey!"

The voice froze the singer in place.

"Hey, you! Girl!"

The voice is male, probably close to her age. Her muscles relax again.

She looks down to see the boy in question. Dark hair peeking out from under some kind of cowboy hat, denim jacket and muddy jeans. Could be a Texan that's walked a _long_ way. She stared at him a long time, wondering if he was some kind of illusion.

"How did you get up there?"

"Climbed."

"I see... You should come down."

"No can do, cowboy."

"Can I ask if you're alone?"

"You can ask. Doesn't mean I'm gonna answer."

The boy sighs and throws his hands in the air. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little confused why there's a girl singing in a tree."

The singer hears the frustration in his voice and smiles to herself. "Name's Conner. I can tell you that."

"Carl."

"You armed, Carl?"

He pulled his firearm from the holster on his waist and held it out sideways. "Pistol."

Handgun, no backpack. He had a camp somewhere. Seemed sane enough. But you never really see someone until they don't see you.

"Sorry, but I gotta scram." She hurried across the bridges.

"Wait!"

He didn't try to follow. It would be dark soon.

The absence of light made it easier to roam the tree tops. It was quiet tonight. The creaking of the forest blended with the creaks of the wood under her feet. She could track the boy back to his camp, but there wouldn't be much point. She would see him again, that was for sure.

The house was cold when she opened the door. Must have left a window open again. Connor would have hollered at her for that.

She found the open window and latched it tight. The house would warm up eventually


	2. I'm No Longer Alone

There hasn't been rain in weeks. Water is starting to run low.

Conner closed the lid of the tank. All the remaining water had to be reserved for drinking and the garden. She could only hope the dry spell would be broken sooner rather than later.

The pipes to the bathroom were shut off, just in case she forgot.

Even the tree trunk that ran through the middle of her home seemed a little drier than usual.

"Nothing to do about it..." she mumbled to herself, getting together a small bag of marbles and her slingshot. "Just wait for the rain, little C."

There was no bait left in either of the pits last night. Now that she knew someone was camping nearby, she didn't want to put them in danger by drawing the deadheads to the area.

Her mission this morning was to find the boy, and watch.

It didn't take long either. His foot steps were loud and he carelessly crunched through the leaves and anything else his feet happened upon. It was a wonder he made it this long.

She observed the rifle. He held it with both hands, close to his side. Was he looking for her, or hunting? Either way, the rifle was not a good start to this inspection.

Stepping warily, she followed him. He looked up into the canopy every once in a while, but never more than a passing glance. This is how she knew that he was oblivious to her presence.

A squirrel scurried down a tree near her current hiding place.

The was a faint pop and it fell from the trunk.

She hadn't noticed the silencer. That kind of carelessness gets you killed, Conner.

After watching for at least an hour she finally decided he was at least safe enough to talk to.

"Hey cowboy, you lost?" she calls out to him, revealing her location from behind a tree.

Carl spins around with the rifle pointed directly at her. The second he realizes it's the girl, he lowers it quickly.

"Sorry, reflex."

"No sweat" she mumbles.

There's a long silence.

"How did you find me?"

"You're not as quiet as you think."

"So you've been following me."

"You could say that. Where ya from?"

"Georgia."

"Ah, had you pegged for a Texan. Either way, you're a long way from home, cowboy."

"Texan? Is that why you keep calling me cowboy?"

"That and the hat."

He shifted uncomfortably "It's my dad's. He was a sherif back when everything was... you know, normal."

Normal. Conner laughed a little inside. "Sherif, huh? So I wasn't to far off on the cowboy."

"I guess not."

"You into squirrel?" she raised an eyebrow and pointed to the carcass slung over his shoulder.

Carl shrugged "It's the only real meat you can get these days. Unless you know about something better?"

"Nope, sorry. Vegetarian."

"Oh... So you're probably pretty pissed at me for killing it."

"Please. I'm not an animal rights activist. It just seems easier to be vegetarian. One taste'll get me craving it for months. And like ya said, ain't a lot a meat running 'round now-a-days."


	3. Eden Was Once So Sweet

"I don't see anything."

"That's the point, wise guy."

They entered the small clearing below her home. After some weeks of watching this boy, she decided to trust him. Maybe she could even convince him to stay.

The tree in the center had a carving on it.

_Cee Cee + little C_

Most passersbys would think it was some stupid teenagers. It actually marked the way home.

"You know how to climb a tree?"

"Not really."

Conner chuckled at the city boy. "That's fine. There's a drop ladder." She put her gloves back on and pulled herself up to the lowest limb.

"You're seriously going to climb that whole thing?"

"Nope."

About halfway up, the house peaked over the coverings. There was a bit of rope tied to the branch above her.

After swinging over, she dropped the ladder down. Carl quickly climbed the rungs and helped her pull it back up.

"Home sweet home." Conner motioned to the quaint little shack that had built around a tree.

"Wow." Was all he could say.

She smiled to herself. We did good. She went inside, he followed.

There were two small rooms in the back lined by a makeshift counter and sink. Next to the counter was a small space heater. To the right of the door was a dinky table and two rickety chairs.

"Holy shit, does that thing work?" Carl gaped at the 20" flat screen to the left of the door. Across from it lay 2 bean bag chairs, one clearly more used than the other. "Sometimes. There's only five solar panels on the roof which mostly powers the heater. I can only watch it a couple hours a month or so." She shrugs.

"That's still amazing. I haven't watched TV in years."

"Well as you can probably imagine, cable isn't exactly a thing anymore. You either have a DVD or static."

"I'm assuming you have DVDs then, or this would be pretty useless."

"Are you kidding? My brother and I hit a library about a month after D.C. went to shit. We brought back two backpacks full and went back about a week later for more." She smiled, remembering the long walk with those heavy backpacks. It's the little things you remember most.

"I didn't know you had a brother." Carl says quietly.

"No worries, he's dead now. Been that way for a while."

"Oh..."

"Hey, wanna see the greenhouse? It's just a few trees over, and there's bridges. Completely safe, I promise."

Carl shrugged "Why not?"

The greenhouse is stealthily shrouded, less than 200 feet from home tree. It had to be on the ground, despite Conner's protests.

"Have an apple." She tossed it down to him. He stared at it like he had just struck gold.

She smiled and stepped down. "Take as many as you like. Whatever I don't eat just ends up fertilizer."

He goes up the step stool and picks four more, carefully checking each one. "How did you do all this?"

"Connor did most of it, I just helped."

He looked confused.

"My brother."

"So you're _both_ named Connor?"

"Well, mine is e-r his is o-r."

"That's... cool."

Conner laughed at his awkwardness. "People told me my mama wasn't exactly 'together'."

"I'm glad it doesn't run in the family." He climbs down and they walk to the smaller plants in the center.

Change of subject.

"You know my daddy's name was Conare, C-o-n-a-r-e, that's what started the whole thing." She pulls a few ripe strawberries from one of the plants.

"Let me guess, your last name is Connor too?"

"Nah, It was something with an M."

He pauses for a second. "You mean you don't remember?"

She shrugs "It's useless information, really. Don't have a reason to remember. Connor would have known." She moves down to the next plant. Blueberries.

"He must have been a pretty great guy."

"Yeah, he was."

Back at the house, Conner started to cut up the berries for lunch.

Carl finds an MP3 player near the TV and sits down at the table with it.

"It's amazing, the little things I didn't know I missed so much. Who's Frank Sinatra?"

Conner stopped cutting and turned around. "You serious? Frankie? You've never heard of Frankie?"

"Sorry."

"Since were kind of in the apocalypse, I'll let you off the hook." She goes back to her berries.

Carl is silent. "I think your the first person I've heard call this... whatever it is, the apocalypse."

"It's what it is, isn't it?"

"I guess so. I think my dad just doesn't want to admit it."

"Your dad?" Conner stops cutting. Carl doesn't notice.

"He's kind of the leader of our group."

Group. Fuck. How could you have been so blind? Of course he has a group you dip shit! Do you really think _he_ could have survived this long on his own?

"He doesn't like it when people give up hope. Calling this the apocalypse would be pretty much the same thing as that, you know? End of days kind of shit."

Her hand slid under the counter top.

"You should really meet them. My group. You remind me a lot of a girl we used to have with us. She sang songs like yours."

"A terrible loss, music." The cold steel met her fingertips. "I think I would have lost my sanity by this point without Frankie."

She glances to see if he's looking, but he's too focused on the little device.

"I don't know about that. You seem pretty together."

Silently, she slipped the gun from under the counter and held it even with Carl's forehead.


	4. But Then She Fell

He looked up before she could even turn the safety off. Both froze.

Carl pushed back the chair letting his left arm fall to his side.

His pinkie twitched. There was a knife in his boot.

"Hands on the table, Georgia."

"You're not gonna shoot me."

"What makes you so sure?"

"For starters, the safety's still on."

_Click_ "Hands on the table."

He complied this time.

"How many of them did you tell about me?"

"None, I swear."

_I swear_. 50% chance he's lying.

He doesn't look nervous, just frightened.

40%.

"Look, Conner, there's no need for the gun. I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to. Just calm down..."

"Don't you fucking tell me to calm down!" She snapped. Her trigger finger stiffened.

"Okay, okay. What is it that you want? There has to be something or you would have shot me already."

Her left eyes twitches.

"Goddamn it, Carl! You just had to do this! You just had to have a group. I thought I could finally... Damn it!" Tears pooled in her eyes. "I can't let you go now. You'll tell. You'll tell 'em all about the psycho in the tree, won't ya?"

"I never called you a psycho..."

"I know your thinking it! They all thought it. But you know what? They're dead now. They're all dead!"

"Conner, this isn't you."

"You don't know anything!"

"I know that you don't want to do this."

If he doesn't come back, they'll come looking for him. Even if you dumped him in the pit, it's just one more body to clean out later. Think about this, he hasn't told anyone yet.

But that was before you held a gun to his head.

"It's too late." she whispered.

She let her senses dull. She didn't notice him leaning forward slightly. She didn't notice the way he lifted his heels. By the time she noticed the gun had gone off and she was flat on her back, gasping for the air that had been knocked out.

He held the gun above her. But he didn't point it at her. No, he put it down on the counter, and did a quick scan of himself for a bullet wound.

He didn't find any.

"Are you hit?"

You fucked up Conner, you fucked up big time.

Shut up.

She stared blankly at the ceiling. The rise and fall of her chest was the only sign of life.

Carl knelt down beside her. He knew he should leave, he had clearly misjudged her stability. Something kept him there though. He refused to believe the only light he'd seen in years had just been some sort of illusion.

"Conner?"

Her eyes slowly rolled to him. A tear ran down her right cheek. "I..."

That was all she could say. Her gaze turned back to the ceiling.

You had the shot Conner. You could have taken it. But no, you just had to hesitate didn't you?

You'll be dead by morning.

"Shut up!" She screams in the emptiness.

Carl fell back in surprise.

"I couldn't do it." she whimpered, "I'm so weak."

"You're not weak." He sat back up "The fact that you've made it this long, alone, proves just how strong you are. Most people in your situation would have killed themselves."

She says nothing.

"Let me help you."

The room is suddenly filled with a sick laughter. "You can't help me."

He doesn't leave. "Just go! Leave me alone!"

Carl gets up. He realizes now how hopeless it is. Quickly scooping his bag up off the floor, he goes for the door but stops. One last hope that she might...

"I said, leave!"

He's gone.

The girl is left, still on the floor. Blind rage flows through her veins like she's never felt before.

Why didn't you do it? It was so easy! Have you lost your edge? That's a dangerous thing to lose these days, Conner.

Without warning, she bolts up right and swipes the gun from the counter.


	5. Ma Mer

Silence is often the loudest of all things.

Not often does one experience a silence such as this.

The buildings lay in ruin from the bombs. D.C. hadn't been hit as hard though, because it was one of the last to get hit.

The army had tried hold this place, gave up on every where else. It was to no avail.

Conner strode through the streets, pistol in hand. Her brother's Mosin was strapped to her back. She needed to kill. Might as well kill what was already dead.

Two spotted her from an alleyway not far ahead. Too decrepit to bother shooting. As they got closer, she pulled a knife from her belt and slit one's throat, knowing very well it would not be a death blow. The collated blood splattered on her clothes and face.

She didn't care.

He was kicked back to give the other some attention. She had gotten too close but a swift blow to the head brought her down.

The first one returned, the blood seeping down his front.

Conner giggled a little. It almost looked like a red bib.

She knocked him down again, this time not letting him get up. Breaking his arms was easy enough as he had been dead a very long time.

She watched him try to squirm for a few minutes before smashing his head in with the heel of her boot.

It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

She saw the apartments just down the street. She had been saving them for a special occasion. A special meltdown.

Ma mer est plus profonde dans la nuit.

There was no need to kick the door down, it was already open. She could hear the creaks and moans of the wandering dead heads.

Her trigger finger tingled with excitement.

She banged on the door with the butt of the pistol. One wandered out from what appeared to have been an office. He wore a once fine navy suit and black oxfords.

How the hell did _you_ end up in this shithole?

She popped his knee-caps and waited a minute for any other takers. None.

Fun time.

She made it up three floors before she ran out of ammo. Five on her tail. She didn't expect so many to be in one apartment.

There was a bathroom just a little further down the hall. That is, if all the floors were uniform as she had observed so far.

Luck have it, there was. The door was ajar. No time to check for occupants.

As soon as the door was shut, and the lock clicked, she felt the darkness take her.

Silence except the faint rumbles on the other side of the door. The weak crank flashlight on her belt offered some assurance.

The room was small. 6' by 6', at the most. Just a toilet and a sink. No hiding places. No real space to bring out the Mosin. Great.

As long as she was absolutely silent, they might lose interest. There was only five afterall. She's never seen so few break down a wooden door. Glass, yes. But they could also see her then, so of course they didn't forget what they were doing.

What was that stupid song, the one about an apartment?

She didn't dare to even hum it. She heard the words in her head.

_J'habite dans un immeuble_

_Dans un beau quartier_

_A paris, la Place des Vosges_

_Dans le Marais_

_J'arrive a la porte _

_Qui est toujours fermee_

_Je dois taper la code_

_Afin d'entrer_

_Bang_

What the fuck.

_Bang. Bang._

Shit. Shit. You should have been quieter!

_Bang._

_Bang._

Nothing.

She held her breath.

"They were gathered over here." She hears a gruff voice from the outside hall. Someone fiddles with the knob. Her heart stops. "It's locked." he called to his unknown partner.

A second set of footsteps drew closer.

Impulse is a girl's best friend.

Gingerly, she rose and bumped into the door, groaning like one of the deadheads.

"Must be a walker in there." The other voice commented. "Must a got confused as to who was still livin'."

"Still doesn't explain the gunshots."

"Whoever it was is probably close by. We might catch up to 'em if we go now. You follow the road north, I'll go east. Ain't nothing south but that damn wildlife preserve."

One leaves. Only one.

"Should we... put it out of it's misery? I mean the door's locked. Must a been some kid starved to death hiding from the damn things."

"You know we don' got the bullets for that shit, Daryl."

"Right..." The second leaves now too.

Fuck, that was too close.

She waits a long time before opening that door.

It was night now.

Ma mer est plus profonde dans la nuit.

But it wasn't. Irony.

* * *

**For those who wish to know, a simple translation (because I'm pretty sure Google Translate would get it wrong)**

_J'habite dans un immeuble - I live in an apartment building_

_Dans un beau quartier - In a beautiful neighborhood_

_A paris, la Place des Vosges - In Paris, Vosges Square_

_Dans le Marais - In the Marais (4th district)_

_J'arrive a la porte - I arrive at the door_

_Qui est toujours fermee - that is always closed_

_Je dois taper la code - I must type the code_

_Afin d'entrer - In order to enter_

(_Ma mer est plus profonde dans la nuit_ will be explained later)


	6. She Got Caught

The heavy drops sprinkled down.

Conner lay on the porch of her tree home and let the rain wash the blood from her.

Why couldn't you do it? You certainly haven't lost the edge, that's clear.

Still. She couldn't kill him. It was just like the girl all over again. Now she would just have to live with it.

The girl. What had happened to the girl? She must be dead by now anyways. It had been nearly a year. She wasn't exactly the survival type.

A rainy day, nothing to do. A movie was in order. _Night of the Living Dead_ seemed like a good choice.

But oh, Romero, how wrong you got it.

The people do not work together. The people do not win.

The people fight, they kill each other. The people lose in the end. They lose their humanity more than anything.

"Conner!"

A scream. Sounds close. Only one person knew that name.

She doesn't bother to turn the TV off.

A mushy ground makes it harder to be silent, but at the moment she's not worried about that.

Carl must be in some deep shit if he was calling for _her_.

"Conner?"

She turned around.

He stood there, brows furrowed. Pistol in hand, aimed down at the fallen leaves. "What are you doing?"

"You didn't call me?" She was confused now too.

"No, I heard someone shout your name so I..."

He took a step closer.

_Click_

Both were thrown into the air.

Carl's head collided with Conner's forehead.

Her vision spun like crazy. Black spots appeared.

"Oh shit, sorry." Carl rubbed his head.

The net twirled in the air with the two trapped inside.

When Conner's sight finally returned, it didn't take long to realize Carl was on top of her. His face dangerously close to hers.

Her suddenly dilated pupils tipped him off. "Um, right." He awkwardly shifted until they were both sitting side by side.

"I'm assuming this isn't yours?"

"Don't know how to make traps."

"Well then... What now?"

Conner glanced down. "Cut ourselves out and we fall to our deaths?"

"No thanks."

"Then we wait."

The awkwardness filled the small oddly shaped bubble they now inhabited.

Had it really only been yesterday that she had seen him? It felt like a lifetime had past. At that moment she remembered the gun she had at his head.

"Um, by the way... I'm sorry, for you know... trying to kill you and all."

"No sweat" he mumbled.

"You don't want an explanation?"

"Would you really tell me?"

He knew her better than she had originally thought.

"No."

"Then I won't bother asking."

Night fell quickly.

Conner had fallen asleep. Carl was still awake. Wide awake.

Who ever had built this trap meant to catch a person. It was clearly too big for for a rabbit or any other animals that roamed these woods. The only real question was whether or not they wanted a live one, or a walker.

The net suddenly jerked downwards a smidge. It woke up Conner.

"What's happening?"

"Don't know."

It fell a little again.

Conner hoped it was someone from Carl's group that had found them.

They continued to lower like that for what seemed like eternity.

Finally they dangled only inches above the ground.

Footsteps squished nearby.

"I finally got you, you bitch."


	7. The Beggar's Debt

**_A year ago_**

"Hey, what are you doing!"

Conner groaned

"Get up little C, your working today."

"I worked yesterday."

"Remember last week when you made _me _work two days in a row."

"I was throwing up for fuck's sake!"

"Still. I'm, how should I say, cashing in the favor."

"Asshole."

"Get up lazy ass." Connor ripped the sheets from the teenager.

"Fuck. Off."

"Now when did you start talking like that, little lady?"

"When the world went to shit and no one gave a fuck anymore."

"True enough. But get up." He shook her but she still refused to move. "Fine. Today's a garden day anyways..."

She sat up at that. "Like you're gonna touch _my_plants."

He smiled "That's what I thought."

He can make his own damn lunch today. A basket on her arm carried some green beans that had been ripe. She grew closer to the house. Voices.

Was Connor talking to himself again?

No. One of them was definitely not her brother's.

She left the basket outside the door and cautiously went in, hand hovering over the knife on her belt.

"Hey! There you are!" Connor's cheery smile lightened the room.

A burly man with a scrappy beard sat in her chair. His skin was reddened from sunburn and his eyes were too far apart. He held out his hand to her. "Nice to meet ch'ya."

She started at it as if he was point a gun at her.

He chuckled. "Sorry. The name's Ian. I owe your brother here my life."

Conner glanced at her brother. He nodded. She reluctantly took the man's hand. It was sweaty and he gripped a little too tight for her liking.

"Cee Cee. Can I speak with you for a moment?"

"Sure." He didn't budge.

"Outside, maybe."

"Whatever you have to say you can say in front of him."

"Alright. Remember how we talked about not bringing strangers home?"

"But Ian isn't a stranger. Like he said, I saved his life. Had a shit-ton of walkers on his tail, but Mossy took care of 'em."

It really bugged her that he had named the damn rifle.

He turned to the man now. "I'm sorry for her behavior. She's got a personality disorder. Bit of a schizo too, if you ask me."

Conner gaped at him.

"No worries, I understand. Got a daughter myself. 'Bout her age, too. It's hard for them, growing up in this environment."

She went to her room. Didn't come out until the man had left.

When she did, she brought a hellfire with her.

"You fucking bastard! You said you wouldn't tell anyone!"

Connor still sat in his chair. "What, that you're crazy?"

"I'm not crazy!"

"You hearin' yourself right now? If I didn't know any better, I'd think I was talkin' to mom."

"Don't you say that!"

He stood up now. "Oh, but it's true. You're gettin' worse everyday, baby C. First the paranoia, then the hostility. Maybe I should 'a' let him take you to that nut house. God knows it would 'a' done you right."

Her heart broke. She went for the door.

Connor grabbed her arm. "Wait, don't go! Please! I'm sorry, I didn't mean none of it."

She pulled against his grip. "Yes you did. You meant every word."

"No, no. You're not like mama at all, baby C. You're smart, and sweet, and I'm sorry. You know when I get mad I say stuff I don' mean." He pulled her into a hug but she resisted.

"Stop it."

"Nuh-uh. I ain't letting go 'till you forgive me."

It took a minute, but her muscles relaxed again.

"Fine. I won't go. But I still gotta bring the basket in from outside."

"Okay." He released her.

She opened the door. The basket was gone.


	8. Elle Joue (she plays)

Conner's head throbbed. Her eyelids felt abnormally heavy but she willed them open anyways. Getting hit in the head twice in a day probably isn't too good for you.

Her blurred eyes took in the room. A classroom. The science room at the high school to be exact. How the hell did she get here?

She tried to feel for her knife, but her hands were restrained. It felt like wire.

There was a groan behind her.

"Carl?" she whispered.

No response.

"Good morning. Hope you slept well. Go ahead, take in the sights. This is where you die. Sound familiar?" The voice was crackly, clearly sourced by the intercom.

Another groan from the boy. He squirmed a little.

"I didn't want to have to bring your friend into it, but I couldn't just let him go either."

She scanned the room for cameras. There, ceiling. A black bubble protruded from the tiles. She stared right into it.

"Knew you'd be smart enough to figure that one out. So let me tell you how this is going to work. All the exits are strictly off limits. If you wanna take your chances, go ahead. Though assure you, they aren't good odds."

"What the hell..." Carl started to come to.

"Ah, your friend is up. Good. You can explain to him the exit situation later. But for now, let me tell you this. There is no way out. Everything you can think of, I've thought of. The windows are barred, the sewers are packed with the dead, oh, and I almost forgot. I may have persuaded a few into the school, so getting out of those bonds sooner rather than later would be a good idea. That's all for now." The intercom buzzed off.

"Where are we?" The boy struggled against the bonds, tightening them for Conner.

"Stop moving. We're tied together. And we're at the high school."

"You been here before?"

"Used to come here whenever me and Connor were fighting."

"And that was often?"

She says nothing.

"Look. She's got cameras and the intercom working. I don't know if the cameras have sound so I need you to keep your voice down, okay?"

"Fine."

"There's a generator in the basement. If she has the power up, it means she's probably in the main office. There's an electric lock on the door."

"At a school?"

"Wasn't exactly the best neighborhood. If we can get the generator off, we can get to her."

Carl sighed "Sounds like a plan."

"One last thing."

"Shoot."

"You don't hurt her. No matter what. Understand?"

"Um, no, I don't understand. She kidnaps us, and you're concerned for her well-being?"

"Just promise you won't hurt her."

"Yeah, whatever."

"There are weapons in the school. I hid 'em years ago in case I got into trouble."

"This would be the very definition of trouble."

"Yes, though it's not exactly what I had in mind. I don't think she knows about them. There's a broom closet down a few halls. If we can get to it, we'll have everything we need to kill whatever deadheads she's got."

"Right, but you really want to go out in the open tied together like this?"

"That's the tricky part. If I dislocate my wrist I might be able to get it loose. The slack will allow me to free my other hand and untie you.

"You're kidding."

"I'm not. But I might scream, and that will draw attention, so if I do it it's gotta be fast."

"You asking permission?"

"No, just a warning."

_Pop_

Conner bit back a shriek. The worst part was over. She hadn't made a sound loud enough to hear from outside the room.

Her hand slipped easily through the loop and the other followed.

With her hands absent, Carl was able to pull more of the wire and free himself.

"We should do something about that." he nodded to her wrist.

"No need. Right-handed."

Carl cringed at her misshapen wrist. "Still. Your just gonna leave it like that?"

"Don't need it, so yeah. Allons-y."

"What?"

"It means let's go."

"Oh, okay."


	9. A Glitch

They snuck through the first hall. Conner had to repeatedly remind Carl not to let his shoes squeak.

An emergency exit appeared near the end of the stretch.

Conner stopped to inspect it. It didn't take long to find the block of C-4 positioned above the door. She couldn't see the trigger, but she doubted it was there for decoration.

"Shit." Carl murmured. "The hell did you do to this girl anyways?"

"Nothing." She moved on.

"Right. Nothing."

They made it past the second hall with minimal noise, but they began to hear the muffled sounds of the deadheads.

"There." Conner locked on to the maintenance closet.

_Beeeeeeep Beeeeeeep Beeeeeeep_

The hall flashed with red light.

"The fuck...?"

Sprinklers above them opened and showered down. The floor was quickly turned to a massive puddle.

The sounds of the deadheads grew louder.

Conner realized it was only raining in their section of the hall.

"Screw it." She grabbed the boy's arm and the ran for the closet.

Their feet splashed loudly with every step.

Just as she got the door open, the first one rounded the corner. Before it saw them, Conner had dragged the boy inside and slammed the door.

Careless. They would hear the noise. But then, there was the alarm still going off.

Carl didn't dare breathe. Conner held him by the collar forcing him against her.

She didn't notice. He did, with his hands braced on either side of the door.

He could barely see in the pitch black, but what little light seeped from beneath the door outlined her soft features.

Despite everything, he had a sudden urge to kiss her.

She turned her ear away from the door as if sensing this.

"Don't move." Her voice was soft. She released him only to feel the wall for the light switch.

She blinked several times, looking at the nearly blinding light. She hadn't seen a working one in so long.

Carl was focused on her. The rise and fall of her chest with every breath. The way her lips were slightly parted. Her dark hair that fell just below her shoulders. Her eyes he thought were brown revealed a once hidden green.

Conner seemed to remember he was there.

They stared at eachother for a long time. The alarm outside grew quiet until it was only the sounds of the dead shuffling about in the water.

He started to move back but she caught him again.

"Watch it." She hissed.

A step behind him was an empty metal bucket.

"Right. Thanks." He moved to the side instead.

"They should be right here." Conner lifted the dried up mop out of the yellow janitor's cart. "Yep."

She pulled out the three knives and a handgun.

"This is it?" Carl looked disappointed at the haul.

"Yeah. I wasn't expecting to be in this much shit, remember?"

"So how do we bust through all those things with a few knives and one gun?"

"We don't. Patience is a virtue, Carl. They'll get bored and scatter eventually."

"Fine. Got food by any chance?"

Conner pulled out two very old granola bars and a water bottle.

They sat away from the door and ate quietly, listening to the deadheads squishing around outside.

"Tell me about your dad." She whispered suddenly.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, was that rude?"

"No, just... a bit random. But, okay. My dad, he um..." Carl spaced out a little. "He saved our group, several times. He never gives up. I mean, there was a weird time when my mom died, but he got over it. He's the strongest of all of us. That's why he's the leader."

"You got any siblings?"

"Baby sister. Her name is Judith."

"She pretty?"

"Yeah... yeah, she is."

"Don't ever let her go."

Carl looked back to the girl who stared at the cement floor, a little surprised by her change in tone. "You know, you never told me about your brother."

"What do you wanna know?"

"Was he younger?"

"No. He was six years older."

A pause while Carl wondered if he dare ask.

"What happened?"

Conner's gaze lifted and met his.

"He was murdered. For a few apples."

Carl swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You weren't the one who pulled the trigger."

Silence again.

"What about your parents? Were they still alive when this all started?"

"I don't know about my dad, he could still be alive, actually. But my mom died when I was four." She chuckled a little. "Dumb shit tried to get a piece of toast out of a toaster with a metal fork. While it was still plugged in."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I'm surprised she made it as long as she did, honestly. From the stories I've heard and the little diaries she left behind..." She trailed off. "My parents, they weren't really in love, ya know. My mom was on a student visa from France. My dad thought she was pretty so they got married and she got her green card. About a year later my brother popped out. My mom, she got _obsessed_ with my dad. She stalked him, refused to let him go out with friends. I think that was when he first realized there was something wrong with her. Eventually, they had me. And then, she died. I think he was actually _happy_ when she did."

Carl was speechless.

"I'm sorry." She laughed to herself. "I don't why I just told you all that."

"It's okay. I asked, didn't I? I'm just a little shocked that you actually told me something."

"Yeah... So what about your mom?"

"She died giving birth to my sister."

"Oh."

Conner realized it was quiet outside. "Time to go."


	10. Her Brother's Death

_**A year ago**_

"Connor, don't."

"Oh, please. He just wants to hang out." He waved off the young girl.

"He stole my basket."

"You don't know that. Could 'a' been a squirrel."

"I really doubt it was a squirrel, or a bird or anything else you try to pull out of your ass. He's bad news. Please don't let him up."

"It's fine, you and I can take him."

"Doubtful."

He dropped the ladder anyways.

Ian climbed up.

"Thanks. Gonna invite me in?"

His smile was fake. Something was definitely not right.

"Of course, make yourself at home."

The men went inside.

Conner saw a bulge in the back of the man's jeans.

"Damn it Connor." She whispered.

She was paralyzed, unsure what to do. What if he just carried a gun on him wherever he went? Besides, Connor said he had to save him, and if this guy had bullets he would've saved _himself_, right?

Hesitantly, she went inside.

The men were talking about food.

"Yeah, we've got lots." Connor boasted. "We've got a greenhouse just a little ways away."

"That's cool." The man's pinkie twitched.

"Connor, he's got a gun."

He glanced at his sister. Her eyes were filled with fear and locked onto the man.

His focus turned back to the man.

"Where's this garden, exactly?"

"Why?"

Ian sighed and reached behind him. His hand came back with a gun.

"I'm not going to ask again."

The air in the home ran cold.

Connor had never had his life threatened before. But strangely he wasn't afraid.

"Nice try, but I don't buy it."

The man backed up a bit and his aim swung over to the girl. He tilted his head.

"Fine. I'll show you."

"No funny stuff."

"No funny stuff." Connor repeated, showing his understanding.

Ian held the girl by the back of her neck. She didn't like feeling of his sweaty hands on her.

Connor led the way, every few seconds glancing back with an apologetic look to his sister. She didn't care. She just wanted this guy gone.

"I'm sorry about this, really. I have a group and my kid to feed. It's nothing personal, really. It's just the way it has to be."

Conner cussed the man out in her head.

They arrived at the covered greenhouse.

"I see. Is it locked?"

"No."

They went inside. The man looked around.

"Happy? Now let her go."

"Not quite. Get me some of those apples."

Connor went up the step ladder and reached for one.

Ian moved the gun away from the girl's head.

"Connor!"

A deafening blast sounded next her ear.

Connor fell from the ladder.

The girl was pushed to her knees on gravel floor of the greenhouse.

"I changed my mind. _You_ get the apples."

Conner couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. She felt like throwing up everything inside of her.

"Move. Now." He kicked her in the back. She caught herself with her hands. She got up. Went up the step ladder. Picked the eight apples he asked for, and placed them in a burlap sack next to the tree. Handed it over.

"Good girl. If only my daughter did what I asked her, too." He chuckled.

Kill him. Kill him, baby C. She heard Connor's voice in her head.

"I'll let you live. But only because you remind me of my girl. If I ever see you again, I might not be so lenient."

He backed out and left. And that was that.

She went to her brother.

There was an oozing red dot on his temple. His eyes still open.

She closed them.

"Soon Connor, soon."

She started to dig his grave that day. She dug until dark. Hid his body so the deadheads couldn't get to it. She kept digging for a month. It got to the point she had to bring a ladder in order to get out.

One day when she came to dig, she found a deadhead had fallen in. It was completely helpless. She watched it. Studied the way it clawed the dirt beneath her feet. Then pulled out her slingshot and fired a marble through it's weak skull.

She rolled her brother's body.

She came back the next day to find two more deadheads had come for him.

She shot both of them.

Kill him. For me, Conner. Ta mer est plus profonde dans la nuit.

She then spoke her first words in a month.

"I'll kill them all."


	11. Between a Rock and a Deadhead

The water had begun to pool in under the door.

Conner stared blankly at it.

"You okay?" The boy asked.

"Shhh..."

A minute passed.

"Got it. Run through the water, nothing to do about the sound but get it over with. The generator is in a room right next door to the main office where Janie is..."

"Janie? So you do know her."

"Not the point. She won't have rigged that door because that kind of blast would take her out too. But she wouldn't leave it completely unprotected so I'm thinking either some kind of trip-wire-machine-gun, or the more likely candidate, there's something keeping a hell of a lot of deadheads in that area."

"Patience isn't going to bust your way through that."

She glared at him. "I'm aware. Also, there's... a complication that I may have left out earlier."

Carl rolled his eyes.

" I had a revolver taped under the secretary's desk in the case that I couldn't make it here. That desk is where the video feed and the intercom system are managed."

"So she's armed as well?"

"I'd be very surprised if she hasn't found it by now is all I'm saying."

"And you're still going with the _don't hurt her_ approach."

"Look, Carl just trust me okay. I have my reasons."

"That's just the thing, Conner. I don't trust you. How the hell could I? I mean yeah you've kept us alive this long, but those were plans that actually made sense. What your talking about is practically suicide. That girl obviously wants you dead, and to do that, she's willing to take me down as well. You really think you stand a chance of surviving this without having to hurt her?"

"No."

"You know what? I don't think you have the _guts_ to kill someone. That's why you couldn't kill me and your aren't gonna kill her. I don't know what life was like for you before all this, but times have changed. You're gonna have to get your hands dirty to earn the right to live."

She doesn't flinch.

"I never said that you had to come with me." She takes two of the knives and leaves.

She counted twenty. They were on chains, like dogs. Collars with little spikes. One had a name tag.

Their leashes were too short to reach her. So she sat and studied them while they clawed the air in front of her. To her left she notice the one with the name tag straining so hard it was causing his neck to bleed.

Maybe if she sat here long enough, they would just pop their own heads off.

Unfortunately something else snapped first. The collar.

It was sent sprawling forward and fell to the floor before picking itself up and lunging at her.

But Conner was partially expecting this and easily took it down.

She was exactly prepared for five other collars to break as well.

Run.

They were slow but stuck together

One finally began to pull in front of the other four.

She rounded a corner and froze.

Fifteen of them, at least, stood idley.

Then they saw her.

You're dead.

Not yet. She ran as fast as she could. She didn't know where, but she kept going. Her feet knew where to take her.

Somehow she ended up back in the science room. She shut and locked the door, but also knew very well that it wouldn't keep them out long.

Something. There has to be something.

Too many to take on one by one. What's big enough to take them all out?

C-4.

Okay, yes, but how do we trigger it _and_ from a safe distance?

A fuse of sorts, maybe.

She ripped open every drawer. The sounds of the deadheads growing louder with the clashing of objects being thrown aside. Something. There has to be something.

Finally. At the bottom of all the useless crap were a few coils of magnesium ribbon. Rudimentary, but effective.

And now, how the hell do you get out of this room without becoming zombie chow.

For the first time in her life she was stuck.

There is no way out Conner. You're going to die.

She slumped down the nearest lab station.

Does this count as even? Not really, but under the circumstances it will do.

Nothing to do now but listen to them scratching at the door.

Nothing to do now but wait, little C.

That's all it's ever come down to, really. Waiting. What we do with the time we have is unique, but we all meet the same end. Besides,some don't even make it past infancy. She got at least sixteen years. 10 good ones. 5 decent. And then there was whatever the hell this past one was.

Nothing to do. Nothing to do.

_Somewhere beyond the sea_

A tear forced it's way out.

_Somewhere waiting for me_

Why couldn't she kill him? It was so simple. Just pull the trigger.

_My lover stands on golden sands_

_And watches the ships that go sailing._

It was his fault that she was here. She never would have been so stupid as to walk into that trap if he hadn't distracted her.

_Somewhere beyond the sea_

_He stands watching for me_

He would die here with her, no doubt. So it's not like she did him any favors. Maybe gave him an extra day or two.

She heard the wood of the door splintering.

_If I could fly like birds on high_

_then straight to his arms_

_I'd go sailing_

Sailing. One of the many things Conner never got the chance to experience.

She wrapped the ribbon around her fingers.

Just like Connor would tape his knuckles before a fight so they didn't get all cut up.

You dumbass! Why didn't you think of it earlier?

All you need is something to cover you. Something they can't get through.

Duct tape, there was duct tape somewhere. She saw it earlier, when searching for a fuse. Where had it gone?

She glanced at the door. There was a faint pulse. It was starting to give.

No time to look for it. What else is there?

Lab jackets hung in the back. She put one as an extra layer of protection. But she needed something more.

The light above her flickered. Of course.

She climbed up the nearest lab table and hit the plastic covering on the light until it popped out. Would it be enough? She didn't know.

The door cracked. Fingers appeared.

A silver shine caught her attention. The duct tape.

No time to tape everything. All she could do was create a makeshift handle on the light covering in order to form a sort of shield. Would it be enough? She didn't know.

The crack grew larger, forearms now reaching around as if trying to find her.

She climbed another lab station and beat another covering out of it's place. With two she could form a sort of plow and run through them. Would it be enough? She didn't know.

She sure as hell hoped so.

* * *

"The tracks stop here." Daryl told their leader solemnly.

"What do you mean they _stop_?"

"I mean, there ain't no more goddamn tracks, Rick!"

Rick took a look around the small clearing. Why the hell was Carl in this deep? He was only supposed to be hunting around the edge. He thought he'd made that very clear.

"Well he sure as hell ain't here."

"There's two other sets leading to right here, but nothin' else. They could 'a' grabbed 'im and doubled back."

"Fine. Let's split up and follow the other paths. Carol, come with me, you're better at this than I am. Michonne, you stick with Daryl."

Michonne put a hand on Rick's tense shoulder. "Rick, he's gonna be okay. He's a smart kid."

She was right. He'd been in a lot of tough situations before and managed. But still, he didn't like the feel of this one.

He sighed "Yeah. Let's get moving."

* * *

**This chapter was over 3,000 words so I decided to split it in two, sorry for the wait :P**


	12. Le Vainqueur

Holy shit! She couldn't believe that actually worked.

She went in with her head down and the covers in a V formation in front of her. It was tough at first, trying to push through the dense amount of bodies. But as she got further in, it got so much easier. She dropped the shields the second she broke free.

Thank you Connor for making me work out everyday.

Something suddenly tugged at her back. One of them had caught the lab jacket. She shed it quickly and took off down the halls.

Not _too_ fast, you need them to follow.

She got to the nearest emergency exit. It had that lovely C-4. The deadheads weren't too far behind, but they weren't in sight yet. She had to climb the door in order to reach.

The trigger she had failed to see before was attached to a small pressure plate wedged in the door, probably similar to the one that had triggered the net trap in the woods.

Where she had gotten all this shit was lost on her.

She carefully slipped a piece of the extremely flammable ribbon into the clay-like material.

There was always a match book in her bra, just in case she decided to visit one of the pits on a whim. Thankfully, Janie hadn't searched her there.

Before she lit it, she jumped down to peek around the corner. They were in sight now, but not close enough to catch the full blast when it did blow. Timing had to be perfect. Those few seconds were agony. The deadheads sped up slightly, renewing their interest in her.

She climbed up again, lit it, and ran like hell.

The seconds before the blast were almost as bad as waiting for the deadheads to get closer.

A shockwave took her down before the sound even touched her. It was deafening. She instinctively threw her hands over her head. The heat was tunneled through the narrow halls and partially seared the back of her shirt. She was far enough away that she hadn't received the full flame that would have killed her instantly.

Wind suddenly seemed to pull back to the location of the blast almost as if the school was taking a breath.

But the smoke hadn't completely cleared. She choked on the dry, dusty air. There was a ringing in her ear so loud she could hear nothing but the beating of her own heart.

Instinct, possibly, saved her life at the moment. She rolled onto her back.

A one-armed deadhead fell on top of her.

It's flesh was melting and the smell blinded her momentarily. Will alone forced her arm to it's throat in an attempt to distance her face from it's clashing teeth. She reached for her knife only to see it had slid at least ten feet from where she lay.

This is not where you die. You've worked too goddamn hard.

A slick chunk of rotted flesh dripped onto her face. She choked on her own vomit.

Her good hand reached for the blade but she knew there was no point.

Please. Please don't make me die like this.

She felt a splatter of wetness on her face. The body went limp, and slumped off of her.

For a moment, her muscles remained frozen, her arm still in the air.

Slight vibrations on the floor. The smoke still plagued her vision.

Someone was shaking her. A face appeared. The boy.

He mouthed words but her ears refused to work.

His eyes looked frantic.

"Conner!" She heard it faintly over the ring. "Are you bit?"

Was she? She didn't fucking know. She just stared at him.

"Conner, answer me!" he was slightly louder now, the ring was beginning to dull.

She shook her head slowly. If she was, she'd deal with it later.

He took a deep breath. "You're fucking crazy, you know that?"

For once, she smiled at that. He smiled too.

Her ribs ached but she sat up anyways. The second she did, she felt an overwhelming wave of nausea. The mixture of smoke inhalation, the smell of burning zombies, and that disgusting little incident a minute ago was too much. She quickly swung to her side and threw up on the deadhead's legs. The first time was bile and chucks of granola. It burned like hell, forcing itself up her esophagus. The next few were just painful dry-heaving since there was nothing left.

Carl sat behind her with a hand on her back.

After what seemed like hours, it passed. She shook uncontrollably.

"When I heard the blast, I was afraid you'd given up." Carl spoke softly. His words were much clearer now, only a slight ring buzzed in her ears.

She wiped her mouth on her blackened sleeve. "Thank you. You... saved my life. Even after all the shit I got you into."

"Yeah, I guess I did."

She met his eyes. "You saying you didn't mean to?"

"I don't know, honestly. I just saw you there, with that thing on you and I... Well, I shot it. It never really occured me to let you die."

In that instant she felt safe. Something that had been lost to her since she witnessed her brother's murder.

"So... we're cool then?"

"Yeah. Let's just get out of here."

He helped her up, and started toward the blast site. Conner didn't move. He noticed.

His head turned over his shoulder. "Let me guess, not coming?"

"I can't leave, Carl. I have to finish this."

He sighed. "Alright. What do we do?" He walked back to her.

"Carl..." She started to protest.

"I'm not leaving you alone again. I felt like shit when I thought you'd blown yourself up. I'm not going through that again."

She could tell there was no changing his mind.

"Well we've got a few more to clear from the generator, then we can get in the office."

"I'm assuming you know the way back?"

"Yeah. Allons-y."

The door loomed before them. Cutting the power had been easy enough. It seemed a good chunk of the chained zombies had broken free to join the chase.

Now all that was left was confronting Janie.

"Carl, you should stay out here."

"The hell I am."

"Just stay out of the way, okay?"

"Sure."

"And?"

"I won't shoot her."

"Thank you."

He murmured something under his breath.

Conner turned the handle. The door swung open with a push. There were no windows. It was pitch black inside. No shots were fired.

She was hiding.

She'd seen Conner at work, no doubt.

"Janie. I know you're in there." She took a step into the room, and quickly shifted into the shadows. "I just wanna talk."

"I've seen what happens when you _just wanna talk_, Conner."

It came from the back of the room. Predictable.

Conner ducked down behind a desk, she needed her eyes to adjust more before she went in any closer.

"Look, Janie. It's not like that."

"Then what's it like? Please, enlighten me."

"Why don't you just come outside, and I can tell you."

A gunshot sounded. That's one out of five.

"I'd rather you not waste my bullets, honestly." Conner sighed.

"And I'd rather you get the hell away from me, you psycho!"

She could see her fingers on the ground now very clearly. A peek around the edge revealed the girl's form. She had her elbows on the main secretary's desk. The revolver sat in her hands.

She was too far away. She needed a distraction.

"Carl. You still there?"

"Yep."

"Gimme a hand here?"

"Janie, right? She's not going to hurt you. She made me swear that I wouldn't."

She crept around so she was out of the girl's line of sight. Closer. Closer. The girl laughed loudly. "That's because she wants to gut me herself! Do you even know who your dealing with, kid?"

Silence. Conner sighed inwardly. This isn't going anywhere.

She tackled her to the hard ground. The gun went off again.

"Conner?" Carl called into the darkness.

"I'm fine." She had the girl pinned. "Can we go outside now?"

The girl said nothing. Conner had to practically drag her into the light.

She had cropped dirty blond hair and blue eyes. Freckles covered her nose and bits of her cheeks. Conner had never seen this girl before. Janie dropped to her knees and stared at the floor. "Just get it over with."

Conner lifted the revolver and pressed the cold metal to her forehead.

Carl was stunned into silence.

She took a deep breath, and switched the safety on before lowering it. "Now we're even."

Janie looked up, confused.

"Your father once spared my life, because of you."

Her confusion turned to anger.

"I never got the chance to spare your life in return. But now that I have, I recommend you never show your face to me again, understand?"

At the last second she notice her gaze flicker to her left hand.

Before she could step back, the girl grabbed it and squeezed hard.

Conner screamed and crumpled.

Janie grabbed the gun from her hand and flicked the safety off again. Only, she pointed it at Carl.

"What's so special about him, huh? He follows you around and does your dirty work. But I thought you liked the dirty work."

"Janie don't do that."

"What are you gonna do about it, bitch?"

"I'm not going to do anything. He has a group. They're probably looking for him right now. If you kill him, they'll find you, and they will kill you."

She thought about it. "But if I kill you, he just runs home and tells 'em."

"Not exactly. No one outside this school even knows I exist. You can kill me. Easy."

The girl narrowed her eyes. "What's your game, Conner?"

"No game. Just shoot me."

She found herself looking down the barrel of the revolver.

"If this is supposed to be some kind of trick, where I think you actually feel bad about what you did and want me to put you out of your misery, I ain't fallin' for it. I think you loved every second of it."

She squeezed her eyes shut. At least this was faster than being eaten alive.

A shot.

It took her a second to realize she was still alive.

The first thing she saw was Janie on the ground, tears streaming. She held a bloody hand close to her heart.

"I figured it was okay if I hurt her now." Carl remarked behind her.

She grabbed the old gun and stuffed it down the back of her jeans.

"Yeah. It's fine. Let's just get out of here."

It was a long walk back. A long and _quiet_ walk.

"So. You gonna fix that now?" Carl pointed at her left wrist.

"I'll fix it when I get home."

"Right."

Another gust of silence blew through.

"What did you do, Conner?"

"I've done a lot of things, Carl."

He glared at her. "After all that, for once can you just tell me the truth?"

"I've never lied to you."

"That doesn't mean you've told the truth, either."

"Maybe you stop asking such general questions."

He stopped and grabbed her arm. She rolled her eyes and faced him. "What did you do to piss her off so bad that she would lock _both_ of us in a school with a bunch of walkers and C-4?"

"See, that's better. But I'm not entirely sure you want to know the answer to that question."

"Try me."

"Fine. Short version, I killed everyone in her group, including her father."

Once again, the boy was stunned into silence.

"I told you you didn't want to know." She says quietly.

"Why did you do it?"

"Her father killed my brother. My brother was worth at least ten of the assholes that were in that group, but they only had seven. Maybe I got a little carried away, but I don't regret anything."

He stared at her a long time, seemingly analyzing her face for something.

Then something she never expected. He kissed her.

* * *

"Carl!" Michonne greeted the boy with open arms.

"Where the hell were you, little man?" Daryl lowered his bow.

"I got lost." Carl was really bad at lying.

The adults looked at each other.

"Where'd you get that gun?" Michonne noticed the dirty pistol in his hand.

"Found it."

"What happened to your other one?"

"Lost it."

"I see..." Neither of them was buying it.

But it didn't matter. Daryl pulled out his walkie-talkie. "We found him, Rick. He's fine."

"Thank God." The staticy voice sighed through the speaker. "He say where he was?"

"Said he got lost."

"We'll talk about it when we get back. Rick out."


	13. A Week Later

Carl walked solemnly by his father's side. Conner had taught him how to move quieter. He was already pretty quiet though.

He felt his dad nudge him in the arm and watched him gesture with his rifle.

A rabbit scuttled among the leaves just fifty feet ahead of them. It hadn't seemed to notice their approach. Maybe Conner's tips were working.

His father aimed carefully and the air turned heavy. They needed this. The group hadn't had anything but squirrels in months.

It's tiny head lifted. It's tiny nose twitched.

And it was gone.

Rick cursed under his breath. Carl sighed.

He could have sworn they were down wind.

"Come on. If there's one, there's gotta be more." His dad shouldered the rifle and they trekked on.

They wandered in silence for what seemed like hours before his father finally spoke again.

"So, Carl."

"Yeah?"

"You ever gonna tell me where the hell you were for a whole day?"

Carl looked up at him. How _could_ he tell him? He wasn't entirely sure of anything himself. "I already did. I got lost."

Rick shook his head, too tired to argue about it again.

* * *

The pit was quiet today. It had been for a while. Nevertheless, she sat on her little walkway and chewed on some beef jerky.

She wondered if she'd ever see the cowboy again. Not that she cared, it was just curiosity. Part of her hoped that his entire group would move out after last week's incident.

She hoped, but part of her knew better. If anything, they would probably try to track down her and the other girl. They would find an increased difficulty in locating Conner, but Janie might not be so lucky.

What would they do if they found her?

Would Carl convince them to let her go, or would he insist on her death? In this world, those are the only two real options.

What did Carl tell them anyways? She knew they had been looking for him. She saw the man with the scruffy beard and the grey-haired woman following her own tracks. They turned back when they got a message over a walkie-talkie, but she could see they hadn't given up the chase quite yet. She made sure those tracks were gone before they could try again.

Another thing, she hadn't heard Connor's voice in a week. He didn't yell at her anymore, or praise her, or anything. He was silent.

She hoped he hadn't left her

She hoped, but part of her knew better.

Crunching in the leaves pulled her out of her own mind.

She quickly swung her legs over and lay flat on the board.

"So, Carl."

"Yeah?"

"You ever gonna tell me where the hell you were for a whole day?"

There was pause. _Tell him_, she urged silently. _Tell him all about the girl who pulled you into a crossfire_.

"I already did. I got lost."

She sighed. Her head moved over the ledge to see the pair walking towards the pit. It was scruffy beard. The was a comfort in the air between the pair, but also a sort of distance.

That was his dad.

Scruffy notices the pit. "The hell?" Carl stands still as the man goes to crouch by the side and peek over. He suddenly lurches back from the smell. "Jesus..." He mutters just loud enough for her to catch. She giggles a little.

Carl turns to the sound. His eyes slowly filter the trees.

She's frozen. She knows she should hide.

His eyes lock on to her. She gives an awkward wave.

"Carl," His dad says with turning. "Come look at this."

He does. Learning from his father's mistake, he covers his mouth and nose before leaning over.

"Who would do this?" Scruffy shakes his head as if in pity for the things.

"Probably someone who wanted to kill walkers." Carl says a little quiet.

"Whoever it is, it looks like they've been coming back to kill whatever falls in."

"So?"

"Could be one of the people that took you."

"Took me? I already told you...

"And I already told you, that story is a bunch a horse shit. I don't know why you're protecting these people, but we will find them."

Carl is quiet.

"Nothing? You have nothing to say to that?"

"What's the point in saying anything if you never trust me?"

Carl walks away, under her board so she loses sight of him.

"Don't you walk away from me!"

Conner tries to move so she can see better but the wood creaks under her shift of weight.

Scruffy's eyes dart straight to her. Quickly she rolls on her back in an attempt to hide.

"Carl, get over here. There's something in that tree."

"What are you talking about?" His voice is filled with fakeness. "You're imagining things."

"Oh yeah?"

There's a click and a blast from the gun. A hole appears in the wood an inch from her thigh.

There was a moment of silence before another shot punctured fairly close to her arm.

"Dad, stop! There's nothing there!"

She could hear him pushing more bullets into the rifle.

You have to move. You have to move, now.

_If I move he'll see me for sure._

If you don't he'll end up shooting you.

She jumps to her feet and makes a break for it.

Another blast. The force of a bullet throws her off balance and she falls from her bridge. The last thing she sees, is the ground rushing to meet her.


	14. The Dream

_**Two years before the plague**_

"Hey. Baby C, it's time to get up"

The ten year old groaned and pushed the face away.

"Conner, I'm not kiddin', ya need to get up."

The girl's eyes fluttered lazily open. "What do you want, Cee Cee?"

"I want you to grab some clothes, put 'em in your backpack and meet me by the back door."

The girl groaned more. "Did you stop taking your pills again?" She rubbed her face.

"I'm serious. We're really leaving this time."

"No we're not. Go back to bed." She tried to roll over, but the older boy grabbed her shoulder.

"I heard dad, on the phone. Remember that lady that's been coming over the past few months? She was some kinda social worker or somethin'. She told dad that we need 'special' care."

"What are you talking about?"

"He's putting us in a nut house, baby C. I heard him say it."

"No, you're hearing things again. This is why you're supposed to take your medicine."

"I'm done taking my medicine!" His voice raised, then quickly lowered. "Don't you see, Conner? He's gonna lock us up with the crazies.

"He wouldn't do that." The girl didn't sound so sure.

"He would. You know he would. This is our last chance, we gotta go now."

The girl hesitates but crawls out of the plush purple bed.

Two large dressers line a walk-in closet attached to the previous room. The girl stuffs clothes in the bag. She remembers something.

Quickly, she shuffles through a chest at the foot of her bed. It's filled with stuffed animals and toys that were mostly there for decoration. At the bottom she finds the small plastic case with a shiny DVD visible inside.

She runs down the ivory guided staircase to the expansive and lavish lounge area. By the back door, her brother stood impatiently. He held a shiny key she recognized belonged to the ferrari. Her father's favorite car.

"Connor, we can't that one. He'll be mad."

"And you don't think he'll be mad that we're leaving in the first place?"

She was silent. The pair slipped out the back and around the glittering blue waters to the detached garage.

Once in the car, Her brother revved the engine loud and proud.

"What are you doing? Just go!" She hissed at him.

"Lettin' that bastard know." He grumbles before speeding out the half-opened garage door.

They fled for miles, not once hearing a siren behind them. With every passing moment the girl's muscles relaxed.

"What do we do now?" She asked quietly over the hum of the car.

"I know a guy who'll take this off our hands. With the money, we can... I don't know, figure somethin' out."

"Yeah. We'll figure it out." The girl nodded, tired again. Her head sunk slowly as the power of a dream overtook her.

* * *

"Conner!" Carl took off toward the explosion of leaves.

He ignored his father calling out for him to stop.

The girl lay motionless on her side. His eyes scanned the damage.

A small stain of red blotched her jeans on her thigh. He had to move around her to see the way her arm had misshapen in the fall.

He was almost scared to check for her pulse, but he felt a faint one.

"Damn it, Carl! The hell is wrong with you?" Rick finally caught up to the boy and took in the scene. He's caught off guard, seeing such a young girl. He'd figured the creeper would be older. He'd figured Carl wouldn't be looking at her the way he did now. "Who is she?"

"She's a friend." Carl pulled his hand away from her neck. He thought for a moment. "We need to get her back to her house. There's gotta be something there that can help her."

"Is it far?" Rick asked cautiously.

"No." Carl gingerly lifted her from the cold and hardened dirt. His father took her and they ran through the fallen leaves of the approaching winter.

_Cee Cee + little C_

The carving showed through the bark of the old tree.

"It's up there." Carl pointed, seeing the confused look on his father's face as they slowed to a stop.

Rick glanced up the tree and shook his head. "I don't see anything."

"I know. I'm gonna have to climb up and drop a ladder. Do you think you can carry her up?"

"Yeah." Rick wasn't sure about this. "You're sure no one else is up there?"

Carl laughed a little. "Yeah, I'm sure."

* * *

Conner awoke with a sense of falling.

She shot up before a the grueling pain hit her nervous system. Biting her lip, she fell back down.

A hand felt down her leg where it seemed to be originating. It came back only a little damp and red. She finally dare to look. A bandage was wrapped tightly around her thigh. A little red spot had soaked through.

It was only then that she noticed she was on a bed. Not her own, but Connors.

"Was just startin' to think you were dead."

She jumped again. There was a man in the other corner, sitting on the edge of her bed, colt in hand. Instinctively, she dragged herself closer to the wall.

"Relax, kid. If I was gonna kill you, I woulda done it already."

Somehow, that didn't calm her nerves in the slightest. It was dark outside the window. The lights were off and she couldn't really make out his face, but she could see the scruffy, slightly greyed beard.

"Your Carl's dad, right?" She forced.

"Name's Rick." He stands. She doesn't like that.

"Look, I don't who you are, or how the hell you found this place, but I do know one thing. Nothing this good comes free."

"It's mine. My brother and I built it before the deadheads started tearing up the place."

"And why the hell would you build a treehouse out here?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"It's my business, cause if my son is hangin' around you, I wanna know you aren't some psychopath."

"We built it to hide, okay? In the end, it came in handy in more ways than we expected."

The man crouched by the bed so he was eye level with her.

"How many walkers have you killed?"

"Why the hell does that..."

"Just answer the damn question."

Conner shook her head. "I stopped counting a long time ago."

"How many people have you killed?"

She knew exactly how many. But why would she tell him?

It's just a number, Conner.

"Seven."

Rick swallowed, clearly displeased with that. "Why?"

She froze, thinking about it. Why? Some days, she knew the answer to that question, but today she was blank.

"Because I had to." She whispered, no longer able to meet his judging eyes.

He sat there, for a minute. Observing the clear shame she felt. What he didn't know, was had it been any other day, she would have been proud of her accomplishment.

He brought her water and some food from her own stores.

She fell back asleep for the sole purpose of escaping the pain.

Voices from a lifetime ago woke her up. She could hear them faintly, as if they were muffled. When she finally opened her eyes, there was a pale light from outside. The burning in her leg was still there, but she had to find the voices.

With a struggle, she managed to get out of the bed and limp her way to the door. It was open.

The TV played a video of a dead boy with straight blond hair, and a tiny dark haired girl roaming on the beach. The girl followed the boy where ever he went and the man behind the camera laughed as the boy began to realize this.

Carl sat in one of the beanbags in front of it. He turned, hearing creaks in the floor boards as Conner slipped from the room with great effort.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... It just started playing when I turned it on..."

She ignored him, her attention glued to the screen.

Little Connor ran into the water, and she followed, quickly getting knocked down by a wave no higher than her waist. A woman with light hair, like the boys, ran in and lifted her from the sandy water, scolding the boy in another language.

The video transitioned with static, cutting in to the middle of a song. Conner's breath caught in her throat.

A woman with light hair and shining eyes sat with the dark haired toddler on a play mat. The woman sang to the younger girl in front of her.

_...onnez les matines! Sonnez les matines!_

_Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong._

"Encore! Encore!" The young girl bounced excitedly

"Hmm..." The older woman seemed to think for a moment, hiding her smile.

"S'il te plait, maman?"

"Ahh... D'accord." She said in fake exasperation, but her smile soon returned. The woman took a deep breath, as did the little girl.

Together they sang, one voice high and sweet, the other low and soft.

_Frère Jacques, frère Jacques,_

_Dormez-vous ? Dormez-vous ?_

_Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines!_

_Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong._

The woman grabs the child at the end of the verse, and tickles her sides. The toddler laughs uncontrollably.

She suddenly turns a bit serious and looks deeply into the little girl's eyes.

"N'oublie pas, ma fille. Ta mer est plus profonde dans la nuit."

The woman turns to the camera with a smile. "N'oublie pas." She repeats, her eyes starring seemingly into Conner's.

Don't forget.

The screen turns blue. A few moments of silence pierce the room.

"I didn't know you spoke french."

She jumps a little, she had forgotten the boy was there.

"I don't. That was just when I was little." She paused. "My mom didn't know english very well, and my dad was always gone. French was the only thing I had been exposed to."

"Then why do you say that thing?"

"What thing?"

"The thing that that woman said at the end. I've heard you whisper it before."

"Ma mer est plus profonde dans la nuit."

"In english?"

She sighed. "A rough translation could be, my sea is deeper in the night."

His eyebrows crease and he gets up and slowly moves closer to her. "And what does that mean?"

His sudden urge to close their gap makes her muscles stiffen. "It means nothing. The mumblings of a crazy woman."

"If it means nothing then why do you say it?" He stood in front of her now.

She had been cornered, both mentally and physically. She had no desire for it. "Because... I just do."

"You're not crazy." He says assuringly

Conner laughs "And what makes you think that you know anything about me?"

"Because I love you."

He leans in and tries to kiss her but she quickly turns away.

"Don't say that." She whispers. It's what she feared from the moment she allowed him to kiss her.

"But I do." He backs away a little.

She doesn't move. "How many girls your age have you come across in the past 4 years, Carl?"

He stares blankly at her. She chuckles a little. "You only think you're in love with me, because I'm the only option you have."

"That's not true."

Her head snaps to look at him."Then what is it that you love about me? Do you love that I'm violent, or that I'm 'unstable', or maybe it's the part where you barely even know me."

His gaze falls to the cold wood floor for a bit. "You're smart, and even though you think you're insane, you're not." He's finally able to make eye contact again. "Anyone who'd been alone as long as you would be just as sane, if not less. You never give up, no matter how hopeless everything seems."

The gears in her head spun. There was nothing to do about this boy now. It wasn't what she wanted. All she had wished for was someone to talk to, a friend. Someone who didn't love her. Someone who wouldn't feel the need to die for her.

"I think you should go now." Her leg was numb with pain now.

"I can't leave you like this. Look, my dad will be back tomorrow..."

"Fine. But for now, I can take of myself."

He hesitates, but eventually grabs his bag by the door and disappears.

He would never let this go. They would never leave her alone. Who knows? Maybe the whole damn group would try to move themselves in here.

There was no where to go. She couldn't leave if she wanted to in this state, especially not with winter coming so quickly.

Only one thing kept repeating in her mind.

Ma mer est plus profonde dans la nuit.

She wondered what it had meant to her. If maybe, it had meant the same as she had come to understand it.

Everything is an illusion. Life is not real. It is simply a dream we try to make last as long as we can. A dream she was not so fond of anymore. A dream she wanted to wake up from. She replayed the last video on the DVD over and over with the pistol growing heavier and heavier in her hand.

"N'oublie pas, ma fille..."

"I haven't forgotten." She pressed the cold metal under her jaw. It's time to wake up.


	15. An FYI and Thank You

Okay, I know I said the previous chapter was going to be the last one, and it is technically, for the story. See, I have a bit of OCD, and I don't like when numbers don't end in 5 or 0. I don't know, it's weird. In fact I'm going to have to manipulate this last thing so that the word count ends nicely as well. I'm so sorry if you thought this was a continuation. I know, awful ending, so sorry.

But not really.

Which is also part of why this is here.

If you payed attention, I was talking a little bit about how chapter 13 was supposed to be really graphic and gory, so where did that go?

Well, I decided there were a few little things that I wanted to add, but didn't really fit in very well. There will be a second story that follows the girl from the high school incident, referred to as Janie. It will only be 5 chapters, and all five of those chapters will be posted at the same time. What would have been chapter 13 of _this_ story, will be chapter 3 of the new one. Also, chapter 5 may relieve any cliffhangers I may or may not have left.

Basically, if you really want to know what happens to Conner, just read chapter 5 of the next story I post about The Walking Dead.

In fact, any of the chapters in the next story could probably be read by themselves and would still make sense.

Speaking of Conner, I'd like to say something. Just in case I'm getting a little hate on how inconsistent her personality was, believe me, it was intentional. I wrote her as bipolar with a bit of a personality disorder. It just means she had a lot of mental issues and was essentially a different person every day.

And lastly, I would like the thank a couple of people.

A huge thank you for my first review on this story, and this site as a whole, goes to DanathaKettu. It really gave me the confidence I needed to improve the story, and do my best to keep it good.

Another thank you goes to all the followers who stuck it through that little dry spell between 12 and 13. Most of you had to wait a month before I posted again. Whether you noticed or not... Well, it doesn't matter.

To everyone else that followed after I posted more recently, thank you as well.

And of course, the favorites. It's one thing to follow a story, but to favorite it is quite an honor, in my opinion. So thank you, to all who have deemed me worthy as either a favorite author or a favorite story. It makes my tummy button giggly.

Okay, no more of this emotional stuff. It's gross.

I hope you stick around to see The Five Trials of Janice Mills. It'll be fun.


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